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The japchae left on the table had already gotten cold as I'm standing before a room with the door closed shut. Mrs. Kim walked outside minutes ago, to water her precious flowers but I know she was doing that only to get away and give Taehyung some much needed space.

What had him leave the table so abruptly was a question still waiting to be answered. But all I know is that Taehyung never even once mentioned his mother. Mrs. Kim, his grandmother had raised him, but from what age? When did he actually start living with his grandparents? I know that his father is away most of the days but where is his mother? 

I have so many questions to ask and they only keep piling up as I look at the photographs hung on the walls  – Taehyung with a graduation hat on, Taehyung with his puppy, Yeontan, Taehyung with his grandmother and grandfather. And that's it. It's like the family tree stops right there. No pictures of his mother or his father.

With my arms crossed, I lean my head on the door, hoping to hear something but I can't hear a thing. So I call out, knocking a few times, ''Taehyung?''

Nothing.

Not even the stomping of his feet, as if his whole existence suddenly disappeared.

Then I wait. A minute, or two, maybe even five. I'm not sure because I'm becoming restless, my limbs impatient. ''Can I come in?''

''You moron.''

What was that?

And I press my ear against the door carefully, this time hearing a voice. Taehyung's voice. He was talking to somebody, maybe on the phone. ''Taehyung? Are you alright?''

But he ignores me, and I can hear another voice, one that's different in both tone and dialect. ''She was talking about her again. It's all your fault. She's dead. She's dead because of you. No. I wanted to protect her. But you weren't there for her.''

My stomach twists in knots and plummets down a bottomless pit.

People. I can hear people inside. I don't know how many of them are there but I need to come in, I can't let them hurt him.

My thoughts run in sync with the newfound adrenaline within me, causing me to grab the knob tightly and turn it frantically, hoping that he hadn't locked them, that he'd left the door open. And when my whole being barges in, I choke on my own breath, looking at the sight in front of me.

He was sitting, casually, on top of his bed.

And I want to say something, I want to walk forward, but my feet stay glued and my mouth stapled shut.

Because he was all alone.

No people were inside, no other voices threatening him, but only Taehyung standing there still.

''T-Taehyung?'' I say somehow, stammering.

Then he stands up, his back facing the wall, his tired face in front of me. And he doesn't say anything. I can see that he's looking for an explanation in his mind. His eyes are going in circles but he knows that no matter what he says, what story he tells, it'll only awake a dozen questions more.

''I heard people inside,'' I mumble to myself, looking around and blinking. Have I gone mad? ''I could've sworn I heard voices, many of them. They were right here. Somebody was here, I'm sure of it.''

But the windows were closed, nobody could've gone outside and the only entrance was the open door behind me.

I become paranoid when I look under his made bed, only to find a speck or two of dust and a couple of magazines I don't bother to even touch.

''There's no one in here, Erika.''

''Don't lie to me.'' My voice is shaking, my whole body following suit. ''I'm not crazy. I heard you talking to somebody.''

Something has a hold of my movements, causing me to check every inch of this room, but I can't find what I'm looking for. The closet was empty, clothes nicely folded in it with a couple of old stuffed toys sleeping in boxes. Foolish. I feel foolish and crazy when the only people inside the room were Taehyung and me, and those imprinted on a poster hanging on the bedroom walls.

''No,'' denial kicks in, ''I-I heard-''

''Erika,'' he reaches out both of his hands, but I'm scared to be close to them. ''I can explain.''

I'm scared to be close to him.

''Don't touch me.'' Just when my back hits the opened door, I realize that I've been backing away this whole time.

''Please,'' he is desperate, that, I can see. Because his eyes are soft and wide open, lips apart when he speaks, ''I know this is a lot to take in but nobody is in here. It's just you and me, no need to be frightened.''

The lump stuck in my throat doesn't allow me to reply when his words just crawl into my one ear then quickly crawl out from the other. I'm not hearing him, I don't want to. This must be some kind of a sick joke.

''I'm not going to hurt you.'' He is coming towards me, or just reaching his hands out a bit further, I couldn't tell. Not when my vision is blurred with tears, and I'm feeling unwell.

''This is not the way I wanted you to find out about this.''

Find out about what?

Not letting him any nearer, my fists threaten him. I'm going to hit him if his foot decides to move even a centimeter forward. ''Get away from me.'' My confusion speaks for me, and my hand is in the air, going up and down as if I'm trying to repel a fly, but I don't care. I don't care how stupid or scared I look.

As long as it meant keeping the distance at bay, keeping him away.

''You're afraid, I get that.'' He is still holding his hands in front, palms facing in front as if trying to get a hold of me, ''But I'm not a dangerous man.''

Walls are closing me in and the room becomes small. I can't move anymore. And I don't have anywhere to go. I'm running out of places to hide. So I do the only thing I have left: I tense my vocal cords and open my mouth wide.

''Hel-''

But I don't get to call for help when a hand clamps over my mouth and I'm muffling not words but only my breath.

''Don't,'' he whispers, lips pursed and eyes locked with mine. ''Don't scream.''

There we were.

Two people scared of one another. Our bodies close but trembling from within. We're both panting, confusion and fear already consumed the both of us but it wasn't a fight or flight situation like it is for the majority of people when they get scared. This was something different. Almost as if the same fear was the only thing keeping us together.

''I'm slowly going to move my hand away, and you're going to stay calm, okay?''

I nod, breathing in the smell of his skin.

Hesitating at first, but he soon removes his hand away, slowly, as if a single wrong movement would somehow blow up the earth. And I watch as his hand becomes distant. Free from his grip, I swallow my fear.

Scream now.

But I can't. My voice is no longer with me. As if in a dream, I open my mouth but all I do is breathe. No words are coming out.

And my mind races. All kinds of thoughts now screaming instead. Maybe Jungkook was right. Maybe Taehyung was the one responsible for the missing girls around the city.

Schizophrenic, bipolar, mad, whatever he is, is scaring the living life out of me.

''I want to go home.'' Suddenly a whisper crawls up my throat.

Regret. Sincere regret is visible in his eyes once his eyelids drop down and he takes a deep, heavy inhale with a few steps back as well. He isn't saying anything this time. He isn't trying to keep me inside.

He's letting me go.

And I take it as my cue.

Not intending on losing any precious minutes, I rush out the door, almost tripping when I don't even bother to put my shoes on.

I'm running. Somewhere. Anywhere. I'm barefoot running until my breath fades away and I become tired. I don't know where I am. All I see is trees, old hanoks, and more trees closing me in.

So I pull out my phone, turn it on and see a few voicemails left from Haru.

With a swipe of my trembling finger across the screen, I call the person I needed to see.

''Jungkook?'' I choke on my tears. ''Please, save me.''

A/N

any theories? what are your beautiful minds thinking so far?

poppy flowers is one of van gogh's paintings that depicts both yellow and red flowers. it's believed that van Gogh painted it in 1887, three years before his suicide. the painting, which is just a simple vase of yellow and red poppies, contrasted against a dark ground, also represents just how taehyung has one body (a vase), but with multiple personalities in it (poppy flowers).

thank you for being here, for taking your time to read this. 
i hope you're well. please rest & stay healthy. love you, always. ♡